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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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NONDESCRIPT; 



OR, 



THB PASSIONATE RKCI^USK. 



BY 



y 



MARTHA EILEEN HDLAHAN. 



Hide me up from my own despair. 
And the ghost of a dream I dreamed !" 

Owen Meredith. 



PRESS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

PHILADELPHIA. 

1889. 




. Ms 



Copyright, 1888, by Martha Eileen Holahan. 



TO THE MOTHER 

FROM WHOSE HALLOWED LOVE WAS DRAWN 

WHATEVER OF STRENGTH OR BEAUTY 

THIS VOLUME MAY POSSESS, 

I DEDICATE IT 

IN ALL LOVE AND REVERENCE. 

M. E. H. 



I. 



"\X7H0 breathes there that has never heard 
A bird-song from some song-bird's throat? 

Where beats that heart, grown old, ne'er stirred 
By passion's song or sorrow's note, 
Some time, some place, by some hand smote ? 

Who so short-lived that hath not seen 

Night's veil drawn close o'er daytime green ; 
Nor ever watched the shadows rise — 

Conquered by Time's bloodless sword, 

And full atoning sunshine poured. 

Where lately frowned those opaque skies? 

(7) 



NONDESCRIPT: OR, 

Is there a bliss as yet undreamt, 

Which future sleep may bring to sight? 
Hides yet a woe, uncouth, unkempt, 
Man has not battled on some night, 
And conquered, else resigned the fight, 
When taunting goblin-shapes crept up. 
To press upon him Lethe's cup? 

Should there be weal or woe, alas ! 
Undrained to dregs of the revealed, 
In which frail sense hath not yet reeled, 
Ah, man — beware that fated glass! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 

For me, Time's glass holds only dregs ; 

Yet life I sipped once — thirstily ; 
And who drank thus, no pity begs 

Nor needs from such cold-blooded ye 

As drink but in a half-degree; — 
Whose feelings all too meagre seem 
For love or hate's intense extreme. 

Hate from the heart is roughly drawn ; 
But love — ah, 'tis a tempting flood, 
More dangerous than the crimson blood 

Young cubs first taste, then feast upon ! 



lO NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Deep dips yon sun; and I would fain 

Dip deeper, — deeper into — where? 
Ah, if 'twere whence might come again 
Some echo of those strains which were 
Divine, till Fate crept from her lair, 
And spat upon that which could ape 
So well a man — in all but shape! 

Unravelled soon for me this maze 
Called life. And fit 'tis none shall weep 
O'er that which, like a rat, would creep, 
And die, as live, beyond their gaze. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. u 

The mountain winds wail. Is it grief 

Which drifts adown yon rocky brow? 
Does woe, which would not win belief 

In haunts of men below, I trow. 

Disturb the nightfall wildly now? 
Could Nature pity Fate's buffoon, 
And hail his late release a boon 

Long stayed? Beneath cold mountain chrisms, 
Unseen by man, my face shall blanch, — 
Ay, freight the next mad avalanche 

That seeks a grave in black abysms. 



1 2 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

'Tis mortal's birthright to be made 

In semblance of his maker — God. 
But some demon of lightning played 
Down my predestined mite of sod, 
And I was born a satyr — clod! 
At sight of me, she shrieked to death, 
Who had conveyed — and left me, breath ! 

I've often thought if she had not. 
With that one cry, gone back to clay. 
In pity she had loved some day 
The hideous thing her love begot. 



THE PASSIONATB RECLUSE. 13 

Not mine the fault; but mine the curse 

Of a pre-natal mishap; and 
The rigid laws of birth, — the worse, — 

The more conspicuous, that command 

Must fall in such a wretch's hand! 
God! in that awful natal hour 
How easy 'twere to crush my power, 

And leave behind no ghastly trace 
Of how a mother forms her child — 
Serene and fair, else gruesome, wild, 

Before the father sees its face! 



14 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Weeds faster grow than flowers bloom; 

The former earn but dire disgust, 
Yet riot in their darkling gloom 

As blossoms in their loamy dust. 

But, ah, the difference ! Is it just, 
Since neither holds intrinsic power 
To cull itself a weed or flower, 

Unless 'twere fated so? Apace, 
And cunning-brained I quickly grew; 
Deformed and hideous I knew, 

From looking in some other face. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 15 

For never face could on me gaze 

And quite control its muscled move; 
Strange fear within wide orbs would blaze, 

Else loathing dire would features groove. 

Pah! what could common thoughts behoove, 
Now, when I shall so soon go out 
To cross this madding tide of Doubt? 

A grim tarantula freak of Fate, 
All disproportioned from the start, — 
Each part at war with every part, — 

Beyond — could Heaven compensate? 



l6 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

For all the needs of class and race, 

Of every hue is haply made 
Provision of some fitting place, 

'Mid kith and kin of common shade; 

'Mid hearts and haunts of kindred grade; 
But ne'er the eye of public scorn 
Finds fit place for its darkly born! 

They thrive — Sin's time-prepoisoned worth; 
Upon each stamped a blacker stain 
Than ever dyed the brow of Cain, 

To curse anew their cursed birth. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 17 

Had I been driven on the flood 

Of Youth's mad course — thus given sway, 
And recking slight the stain of blood, 

Until — some retributive day, 

Its consequences bar the way, — 
Not blood such as within the heart's 
Recesses throbs, and subtly starts 

To meet the sword's point, cold and keen. 
But such as shrivels o'er the flame 
Of man's abasement, woman's shame, — 

A thing more vile I had not been. 

b 2* 



II 



HTHE gray walls of Chateau Bonpli 
For ages have o'erlooked that tide 
Which pulses in the opal sea 
'Gainst Normandy's fair southern side, 
To break where dulse and driftwood hide. 
With arms outstretched the dark reefs press 
Coquettish waves, — that mock caress, — 

And dumb they list, while each reveals 
A tale of many loves. So man — 
Whose passion lies far deeper than 
Its speaking — passion's self conceals! 

(21) 



22 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Too deep for speaking throbbed my grief. 

Alone, unknown, I ever nursed 
Wild waves of fancy, like a thief 

In whom emotion e'en was cursed. 

Pah ! Was it strange my full heart burst ? 
That passion — music — maddened it. 
And soothed into calm's counterfeit? 

For 'neath my child-hands, light as air, 
The wildest, weirdest notes would shriek 
Such woe as lips could never speak; 

Then softly die, as zither prayer. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 23 

Deep then — unseen — my head would fall, 

And mad tears down my hot cheeks pour — 
In streams — to swell the cup of gall 

Forced on my lips forevermore. 

Oh, had it swept me to some shore 
Plutonian dark, by earthquakes ripped — 
Fit for the hapless nondescript 

Of every clime, — where none might be 
Contrasted with shapes angel fair, 
And by that contrast made aware 

How bitter his own destiny! 



24 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Sage! rare, transfigured Socrates! 

Thy soul was lined with eloquence 
Which hid thy shape! Like spring-high seas, 

Thy words flowed down the heart, and whence 

They would, — sweet, passionate, intense, — 
And moved thy hearers with strange pain, 
Contending joy, and yearning vain. 

The drinker recks that in each bowl 
The lees are hidden by the wine. 
So haply 'twas, methinks, with mine 

Ere that it slipped the gods* control. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 25 

What booted wealth and title, when 

I quick had bartered all, to hold 
The face and form of common men, 

Instead of luxury and gold? 

What booted that my name controlled 
Much power? — that a heart beat warm 
'Neath satyr-face and satyr-form? 

For they who sought my door in greed, 

In superstitious terror ran. 

Nor deemed such uncouth creature man 

That would have fain relieved their need. 
b 3 



26 NONDESCRIPT: OR, 

{ 

What wonder that my thoughts grew dark 

With bitterness toward all mankind 

And God? That hate illumined a spark 

Of murderous material, shrined 

Within that altar of the mind, 

On which a soul is born, they say, 

While all its levers shroud in clay. 

A thing condemned ere birth, — outlawed 
By Fate, I kept within the space 
Of my domain, and cowled my face 

And cloaked my shape whene'er abroad. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 27 

One friend I had ! His love for me 

Made him my constant body-guard; 
He will not weep my destiny, 
He never knew my being marred 
He'll trail— that faithful St. Bernard- 
No step of master more, I ween. 
O'er sun-kissed rocks and dew-wet green; 

For by this hand — he felt no yoke, 
And oft hath lapped — ^that friend was slain. 
The head I will not pat again 

Shall feel no stranger's sterner stroke. 



28 NONDESCRIPT: OR, 

The eventide drifts in; and I 

Upon its ebbing fain would leave 

The land, — fain hear a lullaby, 

In sparry caves, where Naiads grieve 
Above that sea-weed shroud they weave 

For her I loved; who loved not me, — 

Nay, shrank from, — feared. O fawning sea! 
Of all the forms that you caress. 

The fairest, hers ; and mine she was, 

Had Nature in her natal laws 

Not wrecked my right to happiness. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE, 

Ye gentler moulded love the sun, 

The balmy south breeze, and the flow 
Of timid brooks that tinkling run 

And end their course serene. Not so 
With souls afire. The copper glow, 
The rush, the roar, the clash, the strife 
Of storm, finds sympathy where life 
Is inly cursed. The furious rain, 
The boom of breakers, and the black 
Frown of a fire-rent, driving wrack, 
Seem echoed from that inner pain. 



29 



30 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Wild were the winds which fanned that day- 

That day of days ! Upon a rock 
I stood, and gloried in the fray 

Of earth and sky. Why came no shock- 
Ah, why did not all fair things mock, 
And Jove smite with his sulph'rous ire, 
Then, ere my heart drew deeper fire? 
" Hold ! 'Tis a creature yon afloat ; 
See! in the foaming furrows wide, 
A woman! — swept in by the tide, 

Else these mine eyes all falsely note!" 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 31 

Then to my friend I called out: "Forth! 

Yon which the sea may not resign, 
Tear from its clasp." ..." Good Hector, worth 

More friends, more trust than me and mine. 

Well done!" The long, dank tresses shine; 
Her eyes are closed as if in sleep, — 
"Ah, Hector, yon's a cruel deep; 

And holds full many a form like this !" — 
Like this? Nay, surely, not so fair: 
Yet fair are all to fond hearts where 

They wake the chords of raptured bliss. 



32 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Who loves, that loved not at first glance ? 
I worshipped in it. Men well used 

To love, love different, perchance. 

To that strange yearning which enthused 
My heart; and every fibre cruised 

In search of deeper joy, more pain. 

With which to freight the leaping vein ! 

Men have a right to love; but who 

« 

From love was barred, drew close my cowl 
And shivered, lest she see how foul 
The fiend that back her spirit drew ! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 33 

Of heaven I oft had madly railed, 

And yet of heaven had often dreamed; 

But when those wondrous eyes, unveiled, 
Upon my floating senses gleamed 
Its glory; with its visions teemed 

My brain. Remembrance swept away, 

I bent — if not man, surely clay! 
Ah, how slow feet of Vigil flee. 

When hotly urged by mad suspense, — 

The meagre space 'twixt here and hence, 
Who leans o'er Death alone can see! 



III. 



POR weeks within Chateau Bonpli, 

And half within Death's hold she lay; 
Now railing at the moaning sea, 

Else raving — miles and miles away — 
Of sailor life and childhood's day, 
Though every power skill could assume 
Was stretched to snatch her from the tomb. 

Each pain of hers was woe of mine. 
A piteous thing, down by her side 
I knelt, wan-lipped and haggard-eyed, 
Acknowledging a hand divine. 

4 (37) 



38 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Unlucky he who has not loved; 

He is accursed who loves too well; 
For by each wave of fancy moved, 

Extreme his life — 'tis heaven and hell 

Alternate! Veins within him swell 
With crimson rapture; else with woe 
Shrink, till the pale blood scarce can flow 

Adown their channel. While dreams last 
Reality they are, — a creed 
Which mocks at time and scoffs at need. 

And soars away — till sleep hath passed. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 

How oft we pause within the gloam, — 

Grown grateful cool, — to wonder at 
The mid-day heat, when heaven's dome 
So fiercely bent above us that 
We breathed as in a brazen vat! 
Full often lips that never part 
Hold deeper prayers within the heart. 

For comes a time when doctor's lore 
Must stand aside, and idly wait 
The shutting of Death's silent gate, 
Or opening of Life's fateful door! 



39 



40 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

One glorious day, when all around 
And far the cool, deep forest spread. 

And when the valley's fertile ground 
Was one continuous, dazzling bed 
Of flowers, suddenly the tread 

Of hoofs impatient echoed hard 

Along the shaded boulevard, — 



Before the entrance gate drew rein 



A man, of form erect, superb; 
And proud, dark face, whose will might curb, 
If aught could curb, its own disdain ! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 4] 

My waiting groom received his steed, 

Which fiery pawed the level sand, — 
A noble beast, and like, indeed. 

His master, brooking slight command. 

His hoofs just touched, then spurned the sand; 
And in his dark eye spirit flashed, 
From which the groom shrank back abashed 

With fear. The rider's quick advance — 
Grand, haughty, bold, in spurs and cloak — 
A cold foreboding in me woke. 

Who should this — Nay, no guest of chance ! 



42 NONDESCRIPT: OR, 

"The peasants tell that this chateau 
Contains a waif, snatched from the tide, 

Whose face, like flawless cameo, 
Stands clear o'er every face beside. 
In contour, coloring, and pride. 

Her hair, that mocked the sunset's tint. 

Veiled well her form, in halo-glint. 
The tale came from a fishing crew 

My yacht o'ertook in yonder bay. 

I scarce dare hope, monsieur, it may — 
'Twere too much joy! — ^be strictly true." 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE, 43 

Mayhap some fiend of mockery 

Put on my tongue that wanton lie; 
Perhaps 'twas recompense to see 

Another suffer, e'en as I; 

Perhaps, although mine eyes were dry, 
My heart was weeping, lest their sight 
Be robbed of all we mean by light. 

Perhaps I had some inner mind 
To prison that which would remain 
Until its wing but healed again! 

What odds? Who reads the passing wind? 



44 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

I slowly shook my head, as one 

Who would recall some past event, 
Yet fears its issue vainly spun. 

Those fierce eyes, 'neath his dark brows pent. 

But firmer fixed my mad intent. 
" I can recall none such," I said, 
"I fear, m'sieu, she must be dead. 

'Tis peasant's thirst each tale to strain, 
And every shadow deem a ghost, — 
And every one a countless host. 

I fear, nay, know your search is vain." 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 45 

" I had scarce dared to hope," he said, 

And yet that he had hoped I knew, 
When from his eye the quick spark fled, 

And from his dark cheek anguish drew 

Its color. Haggard, old he grew. 
And staggered as if 'neath a weight. 
Slowly he groped back toward the gate; 

Slowly, — as he were opium-dazed. 
Took place upon his noble steed. 
That plunged away, like arrow freed; 

And ne'er the rider backward gazed. 



IV. 



PVE'S veil fell softly down, and grayed 
The brow of Light, the eyes of Space. 

Slow o'er a harp my fingers strayed; 
The cowl was lifted from my face, 
For, in the shadows, none might trace 

Its lineaments, nor knew them worse 
^ Than most — a sinless Cain's deep curse. 

"Where am I?" cried the voice I knew, 

"Art thou the cure? Oh, my heart, 

How long it seems since we did part! 
Oh ! did I dream, or is it true ?" 

c d 5 U9) 



50 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

I knew the danger then had flown. 

I hastily my cowl let fall, 
And took her hands within my own, — 

So small they were, — so wondrous small, 

Man's every sense to thus enthrall 
And thrill ! " You have been ill, mam'selle, 
And must be calm.'* One frightened spell 

Her eyes surveyed me. " Nay, not yet 
The village curiy — nay, nor Jacque, — 
From whom" — then, shrinking startled back, 

"I now recall! — Dieu! to forget P' 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 51 

I pressed a cordial to her lips: 

She pushed it back in loathing sheer, 
Yet clung to me with finger-tips 

That shook with mingled hope and fear. 

"Tell me," she gasped, "is he not here — 
Jacque? Jacque? Ah, Dieu, if it should be 
That you were of his ministry, 

And I again within his hands" 

"Mam'selle, I know him not; but know 
That back to him you shall not go 

Until your own desire commands." 



52 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

She dropped back with a weary sigh. 

*' Life, at the best, must be dark — dark. 
To such a destined wretch as I ! 

Ah! why could not its latent spark 

Have been quenched 'neath that drifting barque ?" 
I vainly begged her not to shed 
The tears that drenched my heart. I said: 

" Drink this, then rest ; and when you will. 
Or never, tell me of your life. 
Within these walls, secure from strife, 

I pledge you none dare work you ill." 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE, 53 

** Your voice is soft," she whispered, " soft — 

And soothing as the cure's was. 
He hath absolved me oft and oft. 

But never will again, because 

My life is full of doubts and flaws. 
And questions that were heresy 
Against God's being. This, from me ! 

That name he at the font hath blessed. 
He must not know in womanhood 
Dishonored; 'twould wring tears of blood 

From his good heart, if he but guessed ! 



54 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

" Nay, listen, pray, m'sieu. One day — 
Ah, do you know what 'tis to fling 

Your heart upon a straw away, 

And deem it safe, poor, tossing thing, 
Nor reck where ends its wandering? — 

Serene and fair my life was spent 

Until he came, and all life went 
To worship where he was, — indeed. 

Without him breath I had despised; 

With him I felt earth paradised, — 
His God my God, his creed my creed. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 55 

"I could not tell you all; but this 

I may tell: In an evil hour — 
Poor fool! I deemed it purest bliss, 

For wisdom then was not my dower — 

I placed myself within Jacque's power: 
We wedded were, — in secret, though : 
His kin, he argued, must not know, 

Until they saw the peasant maid 
His love had lifted to their height. 
Lest, in displeasure, coldly might 

His heritage for love be paid. 



56 NONDESCRIPT: OR, 

"The dearest thing we ever chase 
Far dearer seems if 'tis not caught; 

That vision hath the fittest grace 

Which to the touch proves simply naught 
But air. That fancy vainly sought, 

The web of memory weaves about 

With subtle-tissued beauty — Doubt. 
But, I loved with a faith sublime! 

Ah, in that soul is coward-shame 

Which rises not above the blame 

Of woman's trust, man's worse than crime." 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 57 

All illy mated two, where one 
Is blackly, deeply dyed with sin, 

And purer gaze must ever shun. 
Lest that gray skeleton, within 
Repressed, reveal its ghastly grin! 

No wonder that the tongue will fail, 

Then, in portraying such a tale 

As blighted that fair flower — ^Auree! 

No wonder that a heart will ache, 

Which lists what erst a heart did break, 
And struck a soul with blank dismay! 



58 NONDESCRIPT. 

"Who would not pause where Venice lies, 

A poet's dream of harmony? 
Above — the arch of softest skies, 
Below — full mirrored in the sea, 
That same sky's azure purity? 
Yet, like some spirit of the wind, 
We Venice brushed and left behind. 

We Rome's eternal grandeur passed 
In haste; yet scarce I noted then 
This flight to shun the haunts of men, 
Until its cause was clear at last." 



V. 



''T'WAS not in one, but many days, 

I fully learned the woe which turned 
A glad life down Grief's sodden ways. 

Auree! Auree! Your sweet eyes yearned 
Regretfully. Dreamt you how burned 
That subtle fire within my brain, — 
And never cooled till he was slain? — 

Until, from his foul, tainted blood 
Was drawn that vengeance man should take, 
Where woman's hand falls weak, for sake 
Of his own mother's womanhood! 

6 (61) 



62 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

"A dainty nest near Florence fair, 

Where pain stands still to gaze on peace, 
And woo it in the balmy air 

A sky above, which may increase 
Fair Beauty's outer shell, when cease 
Its inner lights, but never yet 
Was known to lighten mad regret! 

Here fell the blow — here fell the shame,— 
As falls the flail on ripened wheat 
When every grain is most complete, — 
And left me neither place nor name. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 63 

" Who coldly stands apart, alone, 

Recks not the depths that love will test. 
Matured love, as a rose full blown, 

Is hedged with thorns — fear and unrest; 

But woman's soul, in all that's best, 
To purify her love goes forth, 
And Eden slips again to earth. 

Ah, if you have not loved, m'sieii^ 
Pray God to guard you from its woe; 
For though 'tis sweet, full well I know, 

'Tis, in the end, untrue — untrue! 



64 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

" You should have known love's highest weal. 

Your hand is smooth, your voice is kind. 
I list oft when your fingers steal 

O'er harp and lyre. The wandering wind 

Sighs not more sad; and yet my mind 
Is soothed and strengthened by that grace. 
Fain would I look upon the face 

Behind that sombre veil you wear! 
And are you then a monk, to shun 
The world, where riots madly run. 

And dedicate your life to prayer?" 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 65 

I shivered. " Nay, it is a vow 

I made long since to shroud my head. 
I scarce can tell the reason now." 

"A vow's a sacred thing," she said. 

" Light, all too lightly, often shed ! — 
Forgive me. If all promises 
Were kept, life were not what it is. 

The canker which will kill a rose 
Is that which breeds where vows are broke; 
But 'neath regret's unbending yoke, 

Some day must bow who canker sows. 

e 6* 



66 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

"Ah, bon ami! The world is bad, 

Vile — vile and wicked since he was ! 
A wife, high-born and bred, he had 

Before, by God's divinest laws; 

And he deserted her, because 

Oh, beauty is a cruel curse 

To fling upon the poor in purse! 

When death hath passed, who can just say 
How keen the sudden death-blow stung; 
Then words — weak words, upon my tongue. 

This in my heart can ill portray. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 67 

" I sat alone, for Jacque had gone 

To Florence, on some message fond — 

I scarce recall what — at the dawn; 
Nor had returned yet when respond 
Noon-strokes to Time. No dire despond 

Oppressed me. Carelessly I read; 

The sun seemed pausing overhead, 
Then fell a shade across the book. 

'Jacque!' I exclaimed, — the volume threw 

And smiling rose, but backward drew 
With paling lip and startled look. 



68 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

"It was a lady — of that style 

On whom is stamped aristocrat; 
I've often wondered could she smile, 

Such coldness on her proud face sat; 

But she could sneer I know; for that 
She well displayed — calm, keen, and sweet, 
As I were earth beneath her feet! 

She found me sitting in the sun ; 
She left me lying in the shade 
Unconscious, every feature grayed, — 

My love a shame, — my life undone! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 69 

"For weeks I knew no more, — within 

The villa lay, and tossed, and cried, 
And moaned my all unwitting sin, — 

Would I had died — would I had died! 

A fevered brain lacks strength to hide 
Its intent. Often would I rave 
Of peace beneath fair Arno's wave; 

And though I knew him not, 'twas he — 
Jacque — that beside me vigil kept, 
And often, in such vigils, wept 

To see my poignant agony. 



JO NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

"Perhaps God knows why oft we fail 
To hate the one who wrongs us most! 

So much in Hfe behind a veil 

Is hidden, yet were hate love's cost, — 
Then all the world had been well lost! 

I lived — naught stills reluctant breath 

But drear old age, unless that death 
Be forced. What use of savage moan ? 

Too deep for that was mute despair. 

I only begged, — it was a prayer. 
To wend my darkened way alone! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 



71 



" But Jacque vowed otherwise. He swore 
I was his wife in Heaven's sight, 

Where love rules all; and we no more 
Should sever, till that final rite. 
Beyond which — Cometh gloom, or light 

Eternal? Slight boot the details. 

My tongue to name them shrinks and fails, — 
And on their threshold fain would pause. 

A prison with barred entrances 

My bridal home. The servants, his, 



All deemed me mad; and had good cause. 



I NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

"Judge me not harshly, Count. I knew 
Just one foul sin. Twas love for him; 

And love is trust. With him I flew 
All eager — thoughtless of the dim 
Old eyes o'er which salt tears would brim 

To find me gone and know not where! 

Alas ! How doubly since then were 

My mother's wrongs avenged! To rest — 

E'en Heaven in those days of pain 

Seemed naught, could I have flung again 
Myself on her abandoned breast! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 73 

" My wayward folly, madness, proved 
Its own death-blow. My cage contained 

All luxuries; but these eyes roved 
In sudden loathing o'er things stained 
With shame to me, — with life-blood drained 

From her who gave me being. Once — 

(The Figaro came in response 
To my request alway) — I read 

A passage. Cold and carelessly 

The writer dealt that stroke to me. . . . 
Voila! bon ami, she was dead! 



74 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

" Know you of homesick dreariness, 

With which no other pain can cope? 
A yearning drear for one caress, 

From arms that prest us oft; when hope 
For those lost arms must blindly grope? 
When with mad rage old ocean foams, 
*Tis home, sweet home, that ever comes 

Before the hopeless mariner. 
In times of anguish and of doubt 
The landsman's driven soul wails out 

For mother-love and dreams which were! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 75 

" I would not live ! I would not eat, 

I would not drink, that death might haste 
To break my bonds. The love erst sweet 

Had turned as wormwood to the taste. 

Large-eyed I grew, and hollow-faced, 
And in this inly felt elate. 
As one who, matched by scornful Fate, 

'Gainst stronger hand, with lance more keen. 
Balks his opponent's triumph, and 
Dies quickly by his own weak hand. 

Yet smiles to see his foe's chagrin. 



76 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

"Sore troubled now was Jacque. He brought 

Wise doctors in to see — his wife, 
He called me still. They thought 

Me mad, and mad I was 'gainst life, 

With all its bitterness of strife; 
Yet not insane. They ordered change, — 
My native clime; and then, with strange 

Complacency, took pompous leave; 
But left me 'neath a guard's keen glance — 
An Argus! But the looms of chance 

Woof unexpected often weave. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 

"That night they wove a piece of luck, 

Else now, perchance, I were not so 
Cast on your kindness. Lightning-struck, 
The villa burned, and in the glow 
I made escape. 'Twas useless, though, 
For Jacque's keen eyes, upon me bent. 
At once discerned my mad intent. 

His strong arms caught me as I gained 
The cliff. One moment more, enough 
To carry me, through waters rough, 
To peace and mercy all unstrained ! 



77 



78 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

" I fainted then. All weak, half ill, 

The wonder is I did not die. 
But this I know: I never will 

Be strong; for in the times gone by 

I bartered strength for tear and sigh. 
When back to sense my mind was brought, 
'Twas on the sea, in Jacque's own yacht. 

He stood above me, and I heard 
His muffled groan: 'At last she breathes!' 
Ah, cursed that heart where passion seethes. 

And yet remorse is madly stirred ! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 79 



" I turned my head in apathy 

Away; too weak for argument. 
Wild, weird, and bitter raged the sea; 

And wind and rain together bent 

To lash the panes. 'Twas Jacque's intent, 
In some secluded old chateau 
Of his, to cage me well I know. 

Me, whom he vowed to love. Was this 
The love of man, snatched from the gods? 
This love divine, whose fairy-pods 

Shall burst in angel-chiysalis ? 



8o NONDESCRIPT: OR, 

" I found the chance I sought one dawn : 

I threw myself into the deep. 
None stood the wind-blown deck upon. 

My jailer, wrapped in sombre sleep, 

Knew not I had escaped her keep, 
I tried to drown, — the waves were strong; 
They rushed me in their sweep along. 

In childhood I had learned to swim, 
Nor had forgot in womanhood. 
Then 'gainst me crashed a spar of wood, — 

You know the rest; to me 'tis dim. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 8l 

"Ay, mercifully," I replied; 

" Each hour unconscious is one less 
Of pain. When knowledge becomes guide, 

Old age jeers at the tenderness 

Of his own youth. Then all was guess 
And hope, — but shattered, as a myth. 
In the long after-coming, — with 

Reality's broad, brazen sword. 
From Wisdom's store we erst must give 
To Folly's vague, refining sieve 

More than our Time can well afford. 



82 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

"Within each heart is placed a lyre 

More subtle than a siren's song; 
Sometime, by potent hands of fire, 
Its strings are wildly swept along 
And voiced forever — right or wrong! 
/ never have been loved. 'Tis well. 
For I have made no mortal's hell; 
And yet, Auree, that stern decree 
Has ever been a bitter thing — 
Ay, as the black tarantula's sting — 
To gloom my soul's lone mystery. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE, 

" I thank fate — heaven — what you please, 

Which drifted you to be my guest, 
And safely bore you o'er yon seas. 

I prithee, here in safety rest. 

My servants wait your least request 
Most eager, — nay, anticipate 
Your wishes. As that flower of fate — 

The marguerite — in meadows green, 
You spring amongst us, — darkling weeds 
That shun earth's brighter spots. Our deeds 

Are fairer than our looks, I ween. 



83 



84 NONDESCRIPT: OR, 

"Twas Providence that willed you hence; 

Pray, fly not 'gainst His mercy now, 
Else woe must be the consequence 

For all, — ^you would not that, I trow, 

To others than yourself. I vow 
You here shall have full rest. Perchance 
Forget the past's sad circumstance 

In future light. Your brother, I — 
Sire, friend, avenger — what you may; 
And music's charms may soothe away 

Your soul-storm to a lullaby." 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE, g^ 

" Not— not avenger;' quick she gasped. 

" Leave vengeance, Count, unto that One 
Who knows and judgeth best why clasped 

He life in veins which man should shun 

To shed. Though love for me is done, — 
Too vivid yet that vanished past, — 
Its memory from my heart to cast 

I cannot. Kind friend you have been; 
In me 'twere base ingratitude 
To doubt your present noble mood. 
It is not mine— that treacherous sin." 



VI. 



T NEVER knew how fair God's light 

Until on her it golden shone; 
I never knew how dark his night 
Until it left me all alone 
To battle with a demon groan. 
In music couched, my soul's great hoard 
Of love upon her ears was poured; 

But, by some window standing, she 
Would gaze across the even bars 
With absent eyes. Beyond the stars 
I ofttimes thought she used to see. 

8* (89) 



90 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

The summer waned and autumn came; 

To me 'twas spring. For Paradise, 
In which a fool dwells, is the same 

To him — though rubbish to the wise — 

As though 'twere built beyond the skies, 
Instead of in his fancy. When, 
Alone, the cobwebs from my brain. 

I dared to sweep, remembering, — 
I'd stand before a mirror clear 
And at my own foul likeness sneer. 

'Twas vain to quell love's buoyant spring! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. gi 



When in God's own good time shall fall 
On man the flail of mad remorse, 

Ah, let it be above his pall; 

For that can be no deeper curse 
Which meets beyond the pallid corse 

Than flays the living here. I learned 

To fear the creature beauty spurned 
And yet had made susceptible 

To all things fair. Yet dastard fate 

I often dared, and felt elate 

To have snatched some respite from hell ! 



VII. 



pvREAR was the day. A leaden sky, 

Dull, threat'ning, lowered overhead. 
Alas! The destined wretch was /, — 

On me was all its anger shed! 

In heavy swells, and wild and dread 
Below the cliffs, by sea-gulls swept. 
Huge breakers groaned and surges wept. 

All nature stood still, waiting for 
The coming storm-king's chariot; 
We heard it in the distance fret, 

A rumbling cannonade of war. 

(9S) 



96 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Thrice had I begged Auree retire 

To shelter; for the storm would soon 
Upon us open heavy fire 

With all artillery in tune 

And leave behind but broad-spread ruin. 
She heeded not. Her red-gold hair 
Fell soft upon the smothered air; 

Her hands were lightly clasped before; 
Deep thought upon her sweet-lined face, 
And in her eyes that haunting trace 

Of grief once known, known evermore. 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 97 

Nigh came a sudden, jingling clank, — 
The clank of spurs. We turned — ^behold! 

Close, close, and closer Auree shrank, — 
"Jacque! Jacque" — ay, curse him! — dark and bold, 
He moved as though he would enfold 

Her form. Upon my sword I dropped 

A hand which had not pulsed or stopped 
At any deed for her redress. 

" Hold ! trespasser," I cried. " But dare 

Take one step more, and I do swear 

Your life shall pay your forwardness!" 
E ^ 9 



98 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

In scorn untold his eyes met mine: 

Dark eyes, — compelling eyes, — as must 
Be like those which in darkness shine • 
From demon faces, black with rust 
Of Hades' flame and sin's foul dust. 
He, laughing, sneered: ''Voilaf Beware, 
Else I will teach you what I dare. 

Veiled prophet — puppet ! monkey ! clod ! 
Auree, beloved ! Speak ! At length, 
But loving thee with deeper strength, 
I stand free before man and God ! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 

" Light, Auree, those reproachful orbs, — 
So long I've hungered for their sight!" 

The . coward — traitor ! " Life absorbs 
From you its only hope of light 
Hereafter. For the dreary blight 

That wrecked our past, each future thrill 

To come shall heal some by-gone ill. 
The passion such as, throbbing, fires 

A heart like mine, is seldom tame; 

And obstacles but serve to flame 
Its spark to new and mad desires! 



99 



lOO NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

" I will not give you up. Nay, first 

I'd leap with you into yon wave! 
Without you life were deeply curst; 

With you — 'twere not so bad a grave. 

I will not give you up !" " You rave," 
She groaned. "Nay, I am well content, — 
No more by love elate or rent, — 

No more by passions overcast, 
I simply wait the final end. 
Your heart's best blood could never mend,- 

Your soul, aflame, undo the past!" 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. loi 

A ghastly hue came o'er his cheek; 

As if it were in his cause lashed, 
The wind rose with a fearful shriek; 

Above, the zig-zag lightning flashed 

And in its wake loud thunder crashed. 
It was a fearful scene. I caught 
Auree within my arms, nor thought 

Nor cared that dastard's frowning foul. 
One moment on my breast she lay, — 
One moment, — then he wrenched away, 

With dastard hands, my shielding cowl ! 

9* 



[02 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

"Aha! Behold what here is screened 
Behind this priestly garb!" he sneered. 

" Your friend, Auree ? it is a fiend — 
A fiend of fiends — beneath a beard!" 
Uncovered, dumb I stood, more weird 

And satyr-hke than Lucifer; 

Beneath the awful eyes of her 

I frozen stood ! There was a scream — 

An anguished scream — then 'twas o'er — o'er! 

The sea paused not; but now its roar 
Became a hollow requiem theme! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 

He made as he would follow, leap — 
Pah! Would I let him lie where she 

Is taking her long, dreamless sleep? — 
Should he mar the eternity 
Which never may be known to me? 

My sword was strong. I drove it through 

His villain heart, and never drew 
It thence. The buzzards feast upon 

That carrion shell of human pride. 

'Tis well. He will not freight the tide 
Which ushers in her endless Dawn ! 



103 



104 NONDESCRIPT; OR, 

Is there a bliss as yet undreamt 

Which future sleep may bring to sight? 
Hides yet a woe uncouth, unkempt, 
Man has not battled on some night, 
And conquered, else resigned the fight 
When taunting goblin-shapes crept up 
To press upon him Lethe's cup? 

Should there, alas, be weal or woe 
Beneath the sun, still unrevealed, 
In which man's sense hath not yet reeled,- 
Slight boots to me, — I shall not know! 



THE PASSIONATE RECLUSE. 105 

The ivied stone walls of Bonpli, 

For ages still, may darkly frown 
Across the opal-tinted sea, 

Whose masses green and sea-weed brown 

Float where Auree — Auree went down — 
Went down, and took that vivid gleam — 
That weal she brought me as a dream 

Of heaven. Ah, far beyond the skies 
She bore it back; she left with me 
But this undying agony 

Which cannot sio^ht her Paradise! 



Io6 NONDESCRIPT. 

Oh, wailing wind ! Oh, mountain breath ! 

To Life I fling back all it gave — 
'Tis slight — and go to meet grim Death; 

Nor ask of man a purchased grave; 

No respite of Time's hours I crave ; 
But only of The Power, pray- 
To vision once again — Auree! 

* * 44- * -x- * * 

She comes ! white — white, but smiling-lipped ! 
She glides across the shadowness ! . . . 
Nay, Sweet ! Ah ! Tis the Last Abyss ! . . 

Auree ! — God ! — I ! — curse — Nondescript! 



■msm 



